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Well this my second attempt at fiction.And like the first one,this one too is inspired by music.Im an eternal insomniac,and to beat that I listen to music all the time really, but esp. at night.And more than often,it inspire me.The inspiration behind ‘the going away’ was a James Blunt song: I really want you(lines: I killed a man,from the far away land,my enemy im told). I was listening to the legendary John Lennon the other day and his song ‘Love’ transported me to a place I had been 3 years ago. I could just see that beach.And the cafe….and the rest of this just flowed:

He liked the night-time breeze on his face when he found rhythm in his jog. It was awfully humid on the beach, streaks of sweat had already started rolling down his left ear. But it did not bother him. He liked this sea-side stretch that was developed so beautifully. Besides his mind was busy trying to match the rhythm of the song in his ears to the rhythm of his trot. He feared the roaring sound of the sea at night, esp. at this beach which was rocky and wasn’t considered safe. So, everyday, his iPod accompanied him to his odd hour jogging sprees. He had just picked up rhythm when suddenly ‘Love is real, real is love’….John Lennon started playing in his ears. He froze in his path. This was one of her favourites; he thought…how the hell did this end up in my running playlist! But one thing he knew, his run was definitely over. ‘Love is wanting…wanting to be loved’. He walked to the nearest bench and sat down. He put the song to play in loop and shut his eyes. They had heard the song so many times together. ‘Love is free, free is love’. Every thought of her still made him smile. He wasn’t angry on her. He knew she didn’t like him anymore. He understood, that could happen to anyone. It had happened to him before. He had stopped loving his ex-girl friend, because she was too much whiny and abusive. He couldn’t be with her. But this time it’s different, he had thought to himself…he had met the sweetest person. Her smile was like sunshine, and her laughter like music. That’s why it was so hard for him to understand why it had happened, what had happened. She had abandoned him. Yet again love had eluded him. ‘Love is reaching…reaching love’. It has been months, he thought…and I haven’t even seen her beautiful face. I’d call you, she’d said. He never believed it…and she didn’t mean it. Now, listening to the song, it was all coming back to him. The pain was blinding, but really it opened his eyes to the real world. ‘Love is knowing….we can be’. He smirked at this line. Well, he thought, one thing for sure, I would never really have the ‘knowing’ Lennon was singing about. He knew and believed love was just an illusion, at least for him. He looked at the sea-side La Café on his right and then the Gandhi statue on his left. He took a deep breath and checked his watch. It was 11.03. He quickly looked at the café again…it was still bustling. I could use a coffee, he thought. Coffee did to him what alcohol did to other people. ‘Love is asking,… to be loved’. He had lost the count of how many times the song had played. He switched it off…he could now hear the sound of the waves.

He walked towards the café, but before entering, he faced the sea and just stood there silently….soaking in. Suddenly he didn’t know why he had feared the sound of the waves so much all these years. He stepped inside. ‘Love is real, real is love’. No, the song wasn’t playing in the café (!!!!), just inside his head. It seemed to have stuck on the first line. ‘Love is real, real is love’. Lennon’s enchanting voice was filling his head…but wait, what was that crackling sound. He was alarmed, and the Lennon in his mind stopped singing. He looked towards the origin of the noise. Some girl, who was obviously engrossed in reading, had dropped her cup. And now, with everyone staring, she was embarrassed to bits. She was almost to tears. She looked at everyone looking at her…and then she saw this stranger, with a chuckle on his face, not anger and irritation like everyone else. She heaved a sigh and gave him half of a confused smile. ‘Love is real, real is love’.

He went over to pick up the pieces of her shattered cup and…his probably shattered heart!

1. I don’t understand why people smoke…do they think it’s cool??? if so,I would like to know what is their definition of being cool?

2. I don’t understand why people are so lazy that they can’t move their hand a little bit and give an indicator for taking a turn while driving…c’mon,how much effort does it really take?!

3. I don’t understand why most middle-aged people are so prejudiced about different genres of music…I mean how can you describe rock(or any western genre for that matter) music as nothing but ‘ noise made by yelling people’ or classical music as ‘boring’ if you haven’t even tried listening or understanding it!!!

4. I don’t understand how,no matter with whom im eating,I’m always the last one with food on my plate….why does everyone eat so fast???? Do you even eat….or just gobble down the food??

5. I don’t understand if people walk on the road….what the hell are footpaths for???? When will pedestrians understand walking on footpaths is the right thing to do!

6. I don’t understand why can’t people just activate their cell phone’s silent mode in a theatre. Don’t they ever feel guilty for spoiling the moment in the movie for others???

7. I don’t understand how a professor can fall asleep in class when some other professor is giving a lecture!!!! Yeah,I have seen this happen in my college!

8. I don’t understand why females lie about their age…really,how does it change anything??

9. I don’t understand what fame,pleasure or satisfaction do politicians get when they see their and their family member’s faces,along with funny nicknames on the streets,on huge hoardings!!! seriously….give me a break!

10. I don’t understand why some people are so brand conscious…it’s not going to kill you to wear or use something with not so fancy name and not so expensive price tag once in a while!

If only people could think more before they blurted out a word, life would have been so much more organized, much more civilized and really cordial.

Half of the things people end up saying, are really unnecessary. It is completely unnecessary to speak out all your thoughts at the actual speed that they arrive into the powerful memory bank called your brain. Words used wisely can turn into awesome weapons. Like that sword in a needy soldier’s hand at the time of war. If used in excess, eventually a day might come when the words you speak may just lose the importance and value they hold. Words used should be few but well surely well thought and calculative. They should be able to convey the actual deep and important thought rather than just a string words blurted out for the sake of it. Thinking is a virtue one should possess, for it’s far more important than actually being able to speak. A skill set can always be developed even though it’s a hard process, but stimulating the natural potential is even harder to nurture. Thinking is a catalyst to this stimulation of the basic intelligence in the human brain! Thinking gives a window of opportunity for observations. And observations help mould your thoughts in terms of clarity and quality as well. Thinking more enables a fluency in the actual things that we end up speaking. A certain degree of enhanced aptness is ensured in the things that we talk if they are well thought about.

It’s always said that the things practical thing can teach one, nothing else can. Definitely “Think more and Talk less” is a philosophy people should give a thought to! It can be a life changer!

Her sleep was broken by the sound of the window shutter swaying madly in the wind. She did not open her eyes, there was no need to search the house. She knew she was alone…that he had left, just like he had said he would. She tried to go back to sleep, to her world of dreams. But she was too overwhelmed to sleep again, for many days to come…

She opened her eyes to too much light, she had never woken up after the sunrise before this. It was all very bright for her, yet unclear, hazy. She closed the window to her right. And there was deafening silence. She could hear her own breath, and her heartbeats too. With great effort she walked to the front door and opened it. She stood there for a long time…staring at the horizon across the fields, searching for his signs. Her sari fluttered over her toe rings, tickling her. Normally she would have giggled, revealing a deep dimple on her right cheek…but now, she didn’t feel it. She did not feel the prick of the cold wind on her soft fair skin. She did not feel the wind ruffle her hair over her bindi. She felt nothing. Only the void.

She knew she was alone now. But she did not know for how long. She wasn’t sure when he would return…there was no knowing. Her naïve mind did not understand why some people became ‘enemies’ only because a bunch of powerful people said so. All she knew was, she was now alone.

She could now hear the wind in the fields. Her gaze floated from the horizon to the enormous stretch of land in front of her, covered with corns of maize, fluttering in the wind, waiting to be harvested. She closed her eyes tight in desperation, trying to silence the havoc of thoughts running in her mind…she heaved just once.

And then she stepped out of the house, closed the door behind her, collected sickles and chaff cutters from verandah, held it on one side of her waist…and like it were just another day, started walking towards her farm…